


Cough Out My Heart

by EveryFandomHybrid



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Two Endings, my hand slipped, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 13:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryFandomHybrid/pseuds/EveryFandomHybrid
Summary: Crowley has been in love with Aziraphale for 6000 years. What will Crowley do when his love starts to kill him?





	1. Sad Ending

It had started a little while after the time Crowley had met Aziraphale in the garden. A tickling feeling in the back of his throat. Figuring it was nothing, Crowley had ignored it. The feeling persisted for years until the day after he had met Aziraphale in Rome. Then the tickling feeling had turned into a cough. It was a small cough at first, but still worrying as demons can’t get sick. Crowley had, of course, ignored it and continued on with life. After the meeting with Aziraphale in Essex, the coughing got worse and he almost felt like something was in his lungs, but that wasn’t possible, right? 

Some nights- usually after a good dream involving Aziraphale, Crowley would find himself laying on the ground and curled in on himself, coughing so hard that it burned his throat. After a few weeks of that, Crowley had just quit sleeping altogether. Occasionally, he would bump into Aziraphale and they would eat lunch, well Aziraphale would at least. Crowley had stopped eating after a while- the feeling of something in his throat and constricting his windpipe just hadn’t mixed well with swallowing food. He and Aziraphale had made The Arrangement after a few unplanned meetings with each other. No, of course, Crowley hadn’t suggested The Arrangement so he didn’t see Aziraphale as much because seeing him made him cough more and his heart  _ ache _ , whatever gave you that idea? No, he suggested it simply because it was easier for both of them. 

After they had met during Hamlet, the coughing had only gotten worse and Crowley was starting to notice a pattern. It seemed that whenever he did a miracle or something  _ nice  _ for his angel, the coughing got worse. The ache in his heart and the coughing seemed to go hand in hand in a deadly dance of love and pain. Every thought of Aziraphale would send Crowley into a coughing fit- some of which would leave him doubled over and clawing at his throat. 

After Crowley had rescued Aziraphale in Paris, the pain had become almost too much to bear and he had been ready to end it all. No miracle or medicine could help him and he just felt so lost. After a few years alone with his thoughts, he came to a decision. He would use holy water. It would be simple, quick, and oh so easy if he could just get it from Aziraphale.  _ Aziraphale _ . Crowley would miss him, but it’s not like Aziraphale would miss  _ him.  _ Aziraphale had said it himself- they’re not friends, never were, never will be. It was simple, really. So why did it hurt so much for Crowley to think about? He eventually contacted Aziraphale to ask for holy water, but his request was denied. Aziraphale just cared too much for his own good- didn’t he want Crowley gone? After the failed attempt, Crowley decided to sleep for a while. Maybe when he woke up, he wouldn’t be in quite so much pain. 

A little less than a century later, Crowley woke up due to Aziraphale being in danger  _ again.  _ He had cast a little demonic miracle that made it so he’d be alerted whenever Aziraphale was in danger a few centuries back. He rushed to the place Aziraphale was in. A  _ church _ . Really? He’d have to make it quick. Crowley ran into the church, consecrated ground burning into the soles of his feet. After all was said and done and Aziraphale was rescued, he left again, cough even worse now. A few days later Crowley awoke in the middle of the night coughing. He dragged himself to the toilet and coughed until his throat was ragged and sore. A few more coughs and he felt something slide up his throat and out of his mouth. When he looked down, he was surprised to see a bloody flower petal laying in the now pink water. Flowers? That shouldn’t even be possible. 

A little searching through files in Hell led him to an answer. Hanahaki. A disease of unrequited love. The victim of the disease would cough up flowers until they eventually died. There were two cures, but Crowley knew that both of them were dead ends. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he would get surgery and risk losing his feelings for his angel, but it was even more unlikely that Aziraphale would actually love him back. 

His research done, Crowley closed the file and carefully placed it back where he found it. No one could know about this, not even Aziraphale. Especially not Aziraphale. Aziraphale was so kind that he would do anything to heal Crowley. Crowley didn’t want that. He didn’t want his angel to be forced into a relationship just because his best friend was dying. With that on his mind, Crowley went about planning another attempt at getting holy water. Imagine his surprise when Aziraphale showed up in his car with a thermos of holy water in his hands. 

Crowley went home, holy water in his hands and words branded into his mind. “ _ You go too fast for me Crowley.”  _ That was all Aziraphale had said before leaving the car. Too fast? He’d been in love with Aziraphale for over 6000 years- too fast, really? Aziraphale didn’t even know  _ half  _ of it. A cough surfaced and Crowley found himself expelling for flower petals from his mouth with Aziraphale’s words branded into his mind. 

After the coughing fit let up, Crowley found himself thinking about the holy water. He couldn’t use it how he had wanted to now that Aziraphale had gotten it special for him- it was in a little tartan thermos too and Crowley knew how much Aziraphale love tartan. Aziraphale would feel so guilty if Crowley died using the holy water that he had given him and Crowley didn’t want to be the one to make Aziraphale sad, much less cry. Looks like he’d just have to suffer in silence until the day the flowers finally filled his lungs up. 

During the eleven years in which Crowley and Aziraphale took care of warlock, his coughing got even worse. He saw Aziraphale almost every day for eleven years and hiding his sickness was getting much more difficult. It was actually pretty easy to hide it from Aziraphale, but Warlock was a smart kid. He noticed things and asked so many questions that Crowley had to be very careful around him. If he wasn’t careful, a secret might just slip and it would all be over. “Nanny?” Warlock had asked one night. “Why do you always cough so much?” 

“Oh it’s nothing, just a little cold- I’ll be fine,” Crowley responded carefully and relaxed when Warlock nodded, seeming to drop it. 

After the birthday party madness in which they had realized that they had the wrong child, Crowley was seething. While yes, Warlock was a delightful kid and it was interesting to take care of him, Crowley had to see Aziraphale every day for eleven years. Each day, his symptoms had worsened to the point where he was almost coughing up whole flowers. Each smile from Aziraphale sent his heart racing and his throat burning and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He just wanted to be free of all of the pain that had been plaguing him for the past few thousands of years or so. 

On the day of their fight, Crowley felt a small part of him break. Aziraphale’s words echoed in his mind. “ _ I don’t even like you!”  _ If that was true, then there was absolutely no way that Aziraphale could ever cure his hanahaki, no way that he could ever love him back. It hurt knowing that your friend of 6000 years didn’t even care about you. “ _ It’s over.”  _ These words were seared into Crowley’s mind. His angel hated him. They weren’t friends anymore, even after all that had happened. All Crowley wanted was to escape. Escape the apocalypse, escape hell, escape responsibilities, escape  _ everything _ . All he wanted was for Aziraphale to go with him. Couldn’t hurt to try again. 

“We can go off together, Alpha Centauri!” He had yelled, only to be rejected yet again. Even though he had yelled that he wouldn’t even think about Aziraphale, he knew that was a lie. Aziraphale was  _ all  _ he could think about. Every waking moment was spent thinking of Aziraphale and coughing up flowers that spilled from his lungs just for his angel. 

When Crowley saw the bookshop burning, flames licking at the walls and smoke drifting through the air, it had felt like someone had taken a piece of his soul. He ran inside and called out to Aziraphale, but no one answered. Aziraphale was dead. His angel was gone forever. His best friend and  _ love of his life _ was gone forever and there was nothing he could do about it. He decided to go to a bar and quickly got drunk, trying to forget what had just happened. So when he had first seen Aziraphale, Crowley had thought that he was just an illusion cast by his drunken mind. Then he had talked. Aziraphale wasn’t dead. His angel was okay. 

After the apocalypse had been averted, Crowley felt a lot more relaxed, but the hanahaki still continued to get worse. It only got worse after he and Aziraphale switched bodies- he hadn’t really made much physical contact with Aziraphale in all their 6000 years of knowing each other and not only did they have to hold hands to switch, but he was actually  _ in  _ Aziraphale’s body. Surprisingly, both the forces of Heaven and Hell were tricked by their stunt. They met back up on the bench and told each other about what had happened before going to eat at the ritz. 

After Aziraphale had eaten, they both walked to the newly restored bookshop. Crowley flopped into the couch and Aziraphale calmly sat down next to him. 

“Well that was certainly something else,” Aziraphale muttered and opened a book. 

“Well I mean, we  _ did _ just help save the world,” Crowley said with a chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.

“I suppose we did,” Aziraphale replied before idly starting to play with Crowley’s hair, not noticing the way he stiffened. Crowley started coughing only a few moments later and Aziraphale looked up from his book at Crowley. “Are you alright, dear?” 

Crowley couldn’t respond as he was coughing too hard. He rolled off the couch and curled into himself, coughing violently. Aziraphale watched on, he was used to Crowley’s coughing fits by now. Only when Crowley started coughing up blood and whole flowers did Aziraphale spring into action. 

“Crowley? Crowley, what’s wrong? How can I help?” Aziraphale asked, panic taking over him.

“You-” Crowley started but he was cut off by more coughing. “You can’t.”

“But there has to be something I can do! What even is this anyway?” Aziraphale questioned and Crowley shook his head. 

At this point, the floor was covered in flowers, petals, and blood. The red droplets of blood were a stunning contrast against the white gardenias that spilled from Crowley’s mouth. Purity and secret love. That was what they meant. How fitting it was that those were the flowers that God had chosen for Crowley. Purity, for Aziraphale. Secret love for what he felt for Aziraphale. As he continued coughing, he knew that he was going to die. The vines curled around his throat and flowers were filling his lungs. 

“Goodbye Angel…” Crowley said weakly and smiled sadly at Aziraphale. “Just know that I-” He started coughing again, unable to finish his sentence. Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision and he felt his eyes flutter closed.

“No no no…” Aziraphale broke down, hand pressed over his mouth in an effort to silence his sobs. “You can’t be gone- please, I need you, Crowley!” He received no answer and silence was spread through the room, only broken by Aziraphales sobs. “Please Crowley, I-” His voice broke.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, but it was too late. 

  
  



	2. Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't just have a sad end, here's a happy end too!

It had started a little while after the time Crowley had met Aziraphale in the garden. A tickling feeling in the back of his throat. Figuring it was nothing, Crowley had ignored it. The feeling persisted for years until the day after he had met Aziraphale in Rome. Then the tickling feeling had turned into a cough. It was a small cough at first, but still worrying as demons can’t get sick. Crowley had, of course, ignored it and continued on with life. After the meeting with Aziraphale in Essex, the coughing got worse and he almost felt like something was in his lungs, but that wasn’t possible, right? 

Some nights- usually after a good dream involving Aziraphale, Crowley would find himself laying on the ground and curled in on himself, coughing so hard that it burned his throat. After a few weeks of that, Crowley had just quit sleeping altogether. Occasionally, he would bump into Aziraphale and they would eat lunch, well Aziraphale would at least. Crowley had stopped eating after a while- the feeling of something in his throat and constricting his windpipe just hadn’t mixed well with swallowing food. He and Aziraphale had made The Arrangement after a few unplanned meetings with each other. No, of course Crowley hadn’t suggested The Arrangement so he didn’t see Aziraphale as much because seeing him made him cough more and his heart _ache_, whatever gave you that idea? No, he suggested it simply because it was easier for both of them. 

After they had met during Hamlet, the coughing had only gotten worse and Crowley was starting to notice a pattern. It seemed that whenever he did a miracle or something _nice _for his angel, the coughing got worse. The ache in his heart and the coughing seemed to go hand in hand in a deadly dance of love and pain. Every thought of Aziraphale would send Crowley into a coughing fit- some of which would leave him doubled over and clawing at his throat. 

After Crowley had rescued Aziraphale in Paris, the pain had become almost too much to bear and he had been ready to end it all. No miracle or medicine could help him and he just felt so lost. After a few years alone with his thoughts, he came to a decision. He would use holy water. It would be simple, quick, and oh so easy if he could just get it from Aziraphale. _Aziraphale_. Crowley would miss him, but it’s not like Aziraphale would miss _him. _Aziraphale had said it himself- they’re not friends, never were, never will be. It was simple, really. So why did it hurt so much for Crowley to think about? He eventually contacted Aziraphale to ask for holy water, but his request was denied. Aziraphale just cared too much for his own good- didn’t he want Crowley gone? After the failed attempt, Crowley decided to sleep for a while. Maybe when he woke up, he wouldn’t be in quite so much pain. 

A little less than a century later, Crowley woke up due to Aziraphale being in danger _again. _He had cast a little demonic miracle that made it so he’d be alerted whenever Aziraphale was in danger a few centuries back. He rushed to the place Aziraphale was in. A _church_. Really? He’d have to make it quick. Crowley ran into the church, consecrated ground burning into the soles of his feet. After all was said and done and Aziraphale was rescued, he left again, cough even worse now. A few days later Crowley awoke in the middle of the night coughing. He dragged himself to the toilet and coughed until his throat was ragged and sore. A few more coughs and he felt something slide up his throat and out of his mouth. When he looked down, he was surprised to see a bloody flower petal laying in the now pink water. Flowers? That shouldn’t even be possible. 

A little searching through files in Hell led him to an answer. Hanahaki. A disease of unrequited love. The victim of the disease would cough up flowers until they eventually died. There were two cures, but Crowley knew that both of them were dead ends. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he would get surgery and risk losing his feelings for his angel, but it was even more unlikely that Aziraphale would actually love him back. 

His research done, Crowley closed the file and carefully placed it back where he found it. No one could know about this, not even Aziraphale. Especially not Aziraphale. Aziraphale was so kind that he would do anything to heal Crowley. Crowley didn’t want that. He didn’t want his angel to be forced into a relationship just because his best friend was dying. With that on his mind, Crowley went about planning another attempt at getting holy water. Imagine his surprise when Aziraphale showed up in his car with a thermos of holy water in his hands. 

Crowley went home, holy water in his hands and words branded into his mind. “_You go too fast for me Crowley.” _That was all Aziraphale had said before leaving the car. Too fast? He’d been in love with Aziraphale for over 6000 years- too fast, really? Aziraphale didn’t even know _half _of it. A cough surfaced and Crowley found himself expelling for flower petals from his mouth with Aziraphale’s words branded into his mind.

After the coughing fit let up, Crowley found himself thinking about the holy water. He couldn’t use it how he had wanted to now that Aziraphale had gotten it special for him- it was in a little tartan thermos too and Crowley knew how much Aziraphale love tartan. Aziraphale would feel so guilty if Crowley died using the holy water that he had given him and Crowley didn’t want to be the one to make Aziraphale sad, much less cry. Looks like he’d just have to suffer in silence until the day the flowers finally filled his lungs up. 

During the eleven years in which Crowley and Aziraphale took care of warlock, his coughing got even worse. He saw Aziraphale almost every day for eleven years and hiding his sickness was getting much more difficult. It was actually pretty easy to hide it from Aziraphale, but Warlock was a smart kid. He noticed things and asked so many questions that Crowley had to be very careful around him. If he wasn’t careful, a secret might just slip and it would all be over. “Nanny?” Warlock had asked one night. “Why do you always cough so much?” 

“Oh it’s nothing, just a little cold- I’ll be fine,” Crowley responded carefully and relaxed when Warlock nodded, seeming to drop it. 

After the birthday party madness in which they had realized that they had the wrong child, Crowley was seething. While yes, Warlock was a delightful kid and it was interesting to take care of him, Crowley had to see Aziraphale every day for eleven years. Each day, his symptoms had worsened to the point where he was almost coughing up whole flowers. Each smile from Aziraphale sent his heart racing and his throat burning and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He just wanted to be free of all of the pain that had been plaguing him for the past few thousands of years or so. 

On the day of their fight, Crowley felt a small part of him break. Aziraphale’s words echoed in his mind. “_I don’t even like you!” _If that was true, then there was absolutely no way that Aziraphale could ever cure his hanahaki, no way that he could ever love him back. It hurt knowing that your friend of 6000 years didn’t even care about you. “_It’s over.” _These words were seared into Crowley’s mind. His angel hated him. They weren’t friends anymore, even after all that had happened. All Crowley wanted was to escape. Escape the apocalypse, escape hell, escape responsibilities, escape _everything_. All he wanted was for Aziraphale to go with him. Couldn’t hurt to try again. 

“We can go off together, Alpha Centauri!” He had yelled, only to be rejected yet again. Even though he had yelled that he wouldn’t even think about Aziraphale, he knew that was a lie. Aziraphale was _all _he could think about. Every waking moment was spent thinking of Aziraphale and coughing up flowers that spilled from his lungs just for his angel. 

When Crowley saw the bookshop burning, flames licking at the walls and smoke drifting through the air, it had felt like someone had taken a piece of his soul. He ran inside and called out to Aziraphale, but no one answered. Aziraphale was dead. His angel was gone forever. His best friend and _love of his life_ was gone forever and there was nothing he could do about it. He decided to go to a bar and quickly got drunk, trying to forget what had just happened. So when he had first seen Aziraphale, Crowley had thought that he was just an illusion cast by his drunken mind. Then he had talked. Aziraphale wasn’t dead. His angel was okay. 

After the apocalypse had been averted, Crowley felt a lot more relaxed, but the hanahaki still continued to get worse. It only got worse after he and Aziraphale switched bodies- he hadn’t really made much physical contact with Aziraphale in all their 6000 years of knowing each other and not only did they have to hold hands to switch, but he was actually _in _Aziraphale’s body. Surprisingly, both the forces of Heaven and Hell were tricked by their stunt. They met back up on the bench and told each other about what had happened before going to eat at the ritz. 

After Aziraphale had eaten, they both walked to the newly restored bookshop. Crowley flopped into the couch and Aziraphale calmly sat down next to him. 

“Well that was certainly something else,” Aziraphale muttered and opened a book. 

“Well I mean, we _did_ just help save to world,” Crowley said with a chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.

“I suppose we did,” Aziraphale replied before idly starting to play with Crowley’s hair, not noticing the way he stiffened. Crowley started coughing only a few moments later and Aziraphale looked up from his book at Crowley. “Are you alright, dear?” 

Crowley couldn’t respond as he was coughing too hard. He rolled off the couch and curled into himself, coughing violently. Aziraphale watched on, he was used to Crowley’s coughing fits by now. Only when Crowley started coughing up blood and whole flowers did Aziraphale spring into action. 

“Crowley? Crowley, what’s wrong? How can I help?” Aziraphale asked, panic taking over him.

“You-” Crowley started but he was cut off by more coughing. “You can’t.”

“But there has to be something I can do! What even is this anyway?” Aziraphale questioned and Crowley shook his head. 

At this point, the floor was covered in flowers, petals, and blood. The red droplets of blood were a stunning contrast against the white gardenias that spilled from Crowley’s mouth. Purity and secret love. That was what they meant. How fitting it was that those were the flowers that God had chosen for Crowley. Purity, for Aziraphale. Secret love for what he felt for Aziraphale. As he continued coughing, he knew that he was going to die. The vines curled around his throat and flowers were filling his lungs. 

“Goodbye Angel…” Crowley said weakly and smiled sadly at Aziraphale. “Just know that I-” He started coughing again, unable to finish his sentence. Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision and he felt his eyes flutter closed.

“No no no…” Aziraphale broke down, hand pressed over his mouth in an effort to silence his sobs. “You can’t be gone- please, I need you, Crowley!” He received no answer and silence was spread through the room, only broken by Aziraphales sobs. “Please Crowley, I-” His voice broke.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered. Suddenly, Crowley started coughing again. Flowers spilled from his lips, covering the floor. Eventually, the last of the flowers came out, roots finally gone from his lungs.

“You _what_,” Was all Crowley could say as he stared at Aziraphale in shock. 

“Crowley! I- I thought I lost you…” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“No no no, what’d you say, angel?” Crowley asked.

“I- uh, I love you,” Aziraphale said meekly and Crowley’s jaw _dropped_.

“I never- I never thought you would actually love me too…?” Crowley whispered in shock.

“I- yes, since the time in the church,” Aziraphale admitted, blushing.

“Seriously? Angel, I’ve loved you since the _garden_,” Crowley said.

“That long?” Aziraphale questioned, amazed.

“Yes, of course,” Crowley replied with a soft smile. “That why I was dying actually- hanahaki, an illness of unrequited love. You cough up flowers until you die and the only cures are if the love is requited or surgery.” 

“So why didn’t you just tell me or get the surgery?” Aziraphale asked.

“I was afraid to tell you and I didn’t want to lose my feelings for you if I got the surgery,” Crowley explained.

“You stupid demon,” Aziraphale muttered and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “Of course I love you.”

“I know, angel. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: OKAY SO EVERYONE IS LEAVING SUCH NICE COMMENTS AND NOW I WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER FIC BUT I DONT HAVE IDEAS SO FEEL FREE TO LEAVE SUGGESTIONS

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote most of it at 2am but I think it turned out okay!


End file.
